


A Walk In The Park

by JacobsJottings



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Moving On, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 03:13:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11728308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JacobsJottings/pseuds/JacobsJottings
Summary: This is a short one-shot about how I imagine Jacob and Queenie might end up after the events of FB&WTFT- assuming he remembers her eventually. (Basically the happy ending we all know they deserve).





	A Walk In The Park

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic- it's not something I've really gotten into before- so any feedback would be appreciated! I've tried to keep it short and sweet- but I'll probably update it at some point once we know more about the character arcs in the next two films! 
> 
> (Additional Note: in head-cannon several things are present: Jacob has PTSD as a result of the First World War, Queenie has Anxiety, and though unmentioned in this fic- Newt is Autistic, and Tina has Anxiety also).

Kowalski Quality Baked Goods basked in the New York morning sunshine every single day without fail, it was what Jacob liked most about the placement of four hundred and forty three Rivington Street.

The ivory lace curtains did little to shield the sunlight in the apartment above, and golden rays shone on the the dainty and elegant face of Queenie Goldstein. Jacob watched for a moment as the love of his life led down- breathing gently, her lips still rouged from the night before. She truly was a goddess, who at the flick of her wrist could have anything or any man in New York, heck, any man in the United States of America- but she'd chosen him. Jacob Kowalski, the pot bellied, sepia haired, average New Yorker. He felt like the luckiest man in the world.

It seemed a distant memory, a smudge, but he still remembered their first meeting even at a strain, Newt promised he'd remember everything properly soon, and that was down to Queenie. For if she hadn't interrupted that tainted rain from falling on his face, with that tender and mercurial kiss- he would now have a blank canvas inside his head.

But that canvas was now filled with pinks and reds, from cerise to crimson, all down to an alluring and mystical strawberry blonde.

Queenie had seen New York, the speakeasy's, the skyline, the little alleys filled with bookshops only for those with open eyes. But she'd never seen the real New York. The first thing she wanted from Jacob was the grand tour of the no-maj world, living in New York for two decades and she'd never even seen Lady Liberty!

Sure, she had her chances to elope, there was no denial in her head about that, Sam tried chasing after her (before quickly moving onto Cecily), and Abernathy seemed serious when they were still courting whilst at Ilvermony, but he was terribly tedious and boring, with no pulse for anything but work. And once she herself landed such a menial role at the ministry, his presence in her life was too- well- lifeless. 

But with Jacob- oh how she could never get bored of his kindness and optimism, he could spend hours carefully making identical little pastries, only to in the next hour be giving them to the homeless of Brooklyn.

She secretly liked his lack of self-belief too, for it gave her a new purpose, to remind him just how kind and wonderful he really was, and he didn't even have to vocalise a response, for she could see it in his head and on his reddening cheeks, his humble modesty- which never faded. Even as months and years flew by. That only added to her adoration of him, and of course it was mutual. He had her every wish and want in life granted, she had his too. The best part of it for her was that there always was some actual effort behind it, Abernathy would always lazily summon a bouquet of flowers as a gift out of thin air, whereas Jacob went out and hunted them down in the streets of New York, not stopping until he found the most perfect hyacinth or tulip, and then bought them back to her.

It wasn't always plain sailing, sure, and it took some adaptation. Some nights, Jacob would turn cold and scream out in his sleep, and Queenie could feel it in the air, and in his head, some awful flashback from the no-maj Great War, and she would always hold him and stroke his head until he calmed, wishing his pain away.

Other nights, Queenie would reflect on the past, losing her parents, making ends meet, and struggling to fit in anywhere, and her mind would get so down, that the tomorrows would fade away.  
And then with one sentence, or one action, Jacob could reach out and bring her back into the real world, doing his best to relieve her undying anxiety.

They could go anywhere now. Do anything. But the first place Queenie had asked Jacob to take her was Central Park. She didn't want to apparate from place to place either, she wanted to walk hand in hand with the light of her life and watch the newly rose-tinted world pass her by.

Central Park wasn't always the most magnificent place to be, but it was the simple things in life that had made the Kowalski's happy. And Jacob was no exception to the rule, walking around with an emerald-eyed beauty fresh from his dreams in a planted forest made him feel like the happiest man alive.

Every last Friday of the month, he'd cash-in, close the bakery, and they'd go.

Finding a plain of grass, he laid down a chequered blanket, placed a basket on top of it, sitting himself down, and resting his hand next to him, patting the empty space to tell Queenie to sit.

"What is this?" she said, with a cute curiosity dancing over her face.

"It's a picnic- you ain't never been on no picnic?"

She loved that accent, it just made their chemistry tick a little bit more, her own wasn't so far from it, but his R's rolled more; like the Staten Island ferry on a windy day.

"A picnic?- I mean, a picnic that's so-"

"I knew it, she hates it" his mind retorted.

"No, it's lovely, it's just- beautiful".

His face crinkled in response, but then a small satisfied smile spread across his face, and his cheeks glowed, whilst her eyes fluttered like newly hatched butterfly's wings.

And so they sat, hand in hand, heart and soul intertwined, listening to the birds, eating rich pastries, and watching the world go by.

Newt and Tina have Dorset and their kneazles, Jacob and Queenie have Central Park and their pastries.

All was good in the world. And for a while it would seem- life would just be a walk in the park. 


End file.
